Chase of A Lifetime
by LiveLaughLovex
Summary: When Clay Jensen learned that Hannah Baker, the girl from his high school notorious for her suicide by overdose, had been lost for so long before she committed the unbelievable act, he finds guilt in his actions, which, although perhaps not directly, may have played a part in her death. But when he discovers all that he knows could be a lie, he's in for the chase of a lifetime.
1. Chapter 1

They say that there is a cause for every mishap you encounter, every tragedy you suffer. In concept, it's meant to build up your immunity to emotional pain, make you stronger than you once were. But there was absolutely no explanation for the despair that Clay Jensen felt at that moment, the moment when the tapes were over and he was still without the woman that had been so lost for so long, the moment when he realized that, despite her assumptions that her death-her suicide-would have occurred without him leaving that room, he was still very much at fault, still very much the cause of his own heartache and her death.

She had been so full of light the first time he saw her, a smile lighting up her face as she tapped her pen casually against the desk, her eyes flashing to his for just a moment before she glanced away, a blush darkening her fair cheeks. And from that first moment, he had known that she had the ability to save him. She also possessed the ability to destroy him, and knowing his part in her death changed him, destroyed what he possessed that resembled sanity and made him want to know why she had done it, why she had allowed those people to destroy her when he happily would have saved her again and again, happily would've listened to her heartache and her pain until she no longer felt either. Then again, they also say that the saddest leave behind no marks.

Hannah had left behind marks, though, on her community, her family, and, most importantly, on him. She had made him wonder about how short life could be, about how much pain someone could handle before they were forced to break, and about how much love would have to be provided to protect her from that pain. He wondered if, had he known, would he have been able to save her from herself. He wondered about a lot of things, and he had no answers. The only person able to provide them had killed herself and left behind no trace of why she thought she didn't matter to him.

He had loved her. God, had he loved her. She had been happiness and sunshine in a world of complete blackness. She had been just as lost as he was, though, and he had ignored her. He had been unaware of her pain by being trapped within his own, and he had lost her. He had lost her.

He walked down the streets of his hometown. It wasn't his anymore, though. Every corner he turned, every building he hurried past, they all reminded him of Hannah. Hannah, who had been so lost that she had caused them to lose her. Hannah, who told her story in a voice that was haunted and in love and so utterly beautiful when she spoke of a love story they had never had the opportunity to truly experience. Hannah, whom he had loved fiercely for so long and didn't know why she hadn't told him what had happened to her again and again, how she was haunted by her thoughts and her memories, how he was the only one who had ever been capable of saving her.

As he turned into the park and sat on a swing that faced the rocket, though, he buried his face in his hands and stared at the ground. He was unable to cope with anything. He had lost the only thing that truly mattered, and, in some small way, it had been his fault.

A sudden flash of silvery-blonde locks alerted him to his company, and he turned quickly. The image was gone within moments, but he knew that hair. It was impossible, though. She was dead.

That didn't stop hope from causing his heart to begin to rush faster than it ever had before. That didn't stop him from standing and running down the nearly-empty street. And it sure as hell didn't stop Hannah Baker, the girl who had been dead for nearly a month, from spinning around and staring at him, her eyes wide in shock as she approached him, her hand reaching for his cheek for only a moment before tears ran down her own and she turned away.

But she wasn't getting away that easy again, and he grabbed her hand, causing her to gasp, turn around, and smile.

"Look at that," she whispered, hope obvious despite the lost expression she wore. "Clay Jensen missed me."

And as they stood there, two lost souls in a world moving insanely fast, he knew that this was the moment that he had lived for, fought for, yearned for, loved for, and known would, in time, happen.

She was here, and she was the love of his life.

And that sure as hell was worth chasing her for.

**A/N: So I read a book this weekend, and it was absolutely amazing! There was emotion and passion and heartache and this beautiful tragedy that was Hannah Baker and her emotions were so misunderstood that she ended her life and that is the saddest thing I have ever read, but it is also one of the most beautiful. Because, when you really think about it, do you think suicide is caused more by what people know and what they say, or what they think of you, what they whisper behind your back? I think it's the latter myself, but please feel free to have your own opinion and leave it in a review! **

**THIS STORY WILL BE CONTINUED!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I had this written quite a while ago, but it was on a computer that isn't connected to wireless service, and so I had to go to a restaurant with wireless to post it. I am updating most of my works this week, so if you are following any of the others, please remember to check my page! Thank you!**

There were times, during his childhood, when Clay Jensen would stare out at the fields surrounding him in the local park, wondering what life was like when you reached adulthood. Of course, at ten, he had no idea, other than the fact that his mother and father were often stressed and yelled at each other whenever possible. The fact that his father had walked out when he was eleven cemented the fact that adulthood was all it was cracked up to be.

But his father, although cold, had taught him a lot about responsibility. He had told him that a man never hit his wife, never physically harmed her in any way, and loved her to the best of his ability. Perhaps that was why his father had left. He had spent enough nights begging his mother to stop sobbing on the other side of a locked door, begging her not to do anything rash. He had known then that his father had failed.

He had begged her for hours on end, knowing there was a vast selection of pills in the bathroom, and she had finally walked out, red face and bloodshot eyes making him want to cry as well. But she was still alive, and that was what mattered. In his mind, that was all that mattered.

He could have done that for Hannah, had he realized how damaged she was. He should have been able to do that, sit on the other side of a locked door and talk to her for hours on end. Maybe, then, she would be in his arms, instead of thought dead by most of his town. Then again, he had thought she was dead, as well.

He ran after the flash of blonde hair, his hand grabbing lightly at the back of the black hooded jacket before he gently turned the person around and peered into the scared but determined eyes of Hannah Baker.

"Hannah. God, Hannah," he breathed, knowing he had no right to hug her as he did just that. "What the hell were you thinking? Did you know how much your parents missed you? Did you know how much I missed you?"

She stood frozen before her hand found his. "I had to, Clay. I had to see if I mattered." She laughed without humor. "I'm so pathetic. I was going to do it, Clay. I was going to swallow those pills and give up, but then I remembered you and all those people who weren't horrible, vile people, and I realized that it was unfair. It wasn't fair to me, either, to not know if life could get better."

Clay sighed. "They buried a casket, Hannah. That's all they buried. I cried at a pile of flowers in front of your house, damn it."

"I know. I saw," she breathed. "I'm so sorry, Clay. I'm so sorry. You were a safe haven, and I wish I could have told you. But it would have been so obvious to everyone if I had." She smiled sadly. "You have this smile when you see me, Clay, and I thought it was just your normal smile. But you light up. You become this life-sized light-bulb. Wow, really charming the boy, aren't you, Hannah," she mumbled to herself.

"I liked it," he said, smirking. "My mom is at home. Do you have anywhere to stay?"

"No," she admitted. "But your mother knows who I am. My mother and father had my obituary in every paper in this town."

"Did they know?"

"No," she said sadly. "It was easier that way."

"Okay, then. I'll ask my mother to come pick us up. If she doesn't have a heart attack, we'll go home and pack, then get the hell out of this town."

"You'll leave the town for me."

"Ah, Hannah," he said, gently stroking her cheek, "Don't you know I'd do anything for you?"

His mother arrived fifteen minutes later, and, due to the fact that she had yet to read a paper with Hannah's picture in it, she simply looked confused. "Hello, Clay. Hi, sweetie. What's your name?"

"Mom, Hannah. Hannah, Mom."

"Nice to meet you," Hannah said, smiling at his mother.

"You, as well."

"Okay, Mom," Clay said once he had closed the door. "Hannah is Hannah Baker. She's supposed to be dead."

"What?" his mother said, spinning around.

"Eyes on the road, Mom! I just got the girl back from the dead, so I don't really want to go there myself."

Hannah smirked.

"Okay, sorry. Sorry, Hannah. My name is Alexandria, by the way, and if you call me Mrs. Jensen, I will be angry."

"She will be. She hates my father."

"I hate the way he was when he left, yes." Alexandria glanced in the rearview mirror. "So, Hannah, what's your story?"

"What do you mean?" Hannah asked, shifting in her seat uncomfortably. Clay smiled at her tentatively in the rearview mirror and she flashed him an equally shy grin.

"I know my son, Hannah. He loves fiercely when he loves, but he does not fall in love with the weak or the inferior, which leads me to believe that you are neither. So I ask you again, what is your story?"

Hannah sighed. "I was scared, you know? I was so terrified of everything, and I didn't know how to go on, but when it came down to it, I couldn't swallow the pills. And then your son saw me in a park, and here we are."

Alexandria nodded. "Clay's a great way to dampen that agony, you know. He's been the only man I have ever met, including my ex-husband, who sat outside of bathrooms waiting for his mother to walk out."

"He did that for me, too. I pushed him away, though," Hannah sighed, glancing at him.

"Well, we do that sometimes. Clay, don't let people push you away. When they try to do that, it's when they need you the most." Alexandria smiled. "So, children, we shall pack, put the house on the market, and find a nice hotel far out of this city where Hannah will not be recognized. And then, when we're done with that, it's off to Louisiana."

"Louisiana?" Hannah and Clay echoed.

"Oh, yes. Children, you are about to experience my childhood at its finest."

**A/N: And here is the second chapter!**


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